


Of Vice and Men

by ThatWeirdFangirl



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Dysphoria, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, More will be added as work progresses, Pining, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Trans Character, Unresolved Sexual Tension, so much pining, transman! Brendon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWeirdFangirl/pseuds/ThatWeirdFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some Brallon drabbles. Each chapter is stand-alone. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just a Few Minutes (Gen)

**Author's Note:**

> I have returned, but not to the Sherlock fandom. Sorry everyone. :( 
> 
> As for this work, I really am just writing things that pop into my mind. I am a big fan of Panic! at the Disco, and I know that all of the actual people have their own lives and families. I greatly respect them. However, I also like the concept of them being together and was inspired to create this work out of my appreciation for them. 
> 
> Not beta'd, so please tell me if there are any outstanding errors or if something doesn't make sense. 
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. 
> 
> If you have suggestions/anything you want to see, you can reach me in the comments on here or on my tumblr at alex-the-anthropologist.

With another show finished, Dallon collapsed onto the backstage sofa. Their current venue was one of the nicer ones, and it had a little lounge area for the band members to relax before and after the shows, complete with several chairs and the tattered sofa upon which he now sat. He was grateful for even that. 

He hadn't been sleeping well, and frankly, he was exhausted. The close quarters and constant bump of the bus on the highway kept him awake, and their packed tour schedule left them with very few hotel nights. 

The lights in the room were dim, and the lounge area was fairly isolated against the roar of the crowd and the set of the other band. The room was also quiet. Brendon, Dan, Kenny, and everyone else had probably gone to shower or watch the rest of the show from the wings, so Dallon was left in a peaceful silence. 

"Just a few minutes," he thought to himself as his eyes drifted to a close and the exhaustion washed over him. 

He was asleep within seconds. 

***

The show had been amazing. Brendon's veins thrummed with the residual energy as the crowd cheered for them one final time. As he exited the stage with the rest of the band, he noticed his favorite bassist heading straight for the venue's tiny lounge area. Dallon's head seemed to droop and his shoulders were tense.

Usually, the man would have been laughing along with them, but the post-show high seemed to have already dissipated for him. 

Brendon was worried. This behavior had been getting progressively worse since the tour had started. Was Dallon sick? Did he just want to be alone? Did he not find the band fun anymore? Was he going to leave? 

Going along with the other band guys to the shower and declining their offer to watch the rest of the show, Brendon set off in search of Dallon.

He found him in the lounge, silent as he sat on the sofa in the dim lights. 

"Hey Dal, can we talk?" Brendon said softly as he sat beside the taller man. Dallon stayed silent and refused to look at Brendon. Brendon couldn't see his face, but he assumed that Dallon was frowning. This was even worse than he had thought. 

"Dal, I'm sorry. Please don't leave the band. You've been with me for years now, and you're one of my best friends. I don't know what I would do if I lost you." Brendon sighed. "I love you more than you could ever know. So please, just say something." 

Brendon placed a hand on Dallon's shoulder, and before he realized it, Dallon fell sideways onto Brendon, his arms going around Dallon's waist as Dallon curled into his chest. 

Dallon was cold to the touch, but the soft puffs of air against Brendon's neck were warm, sending shivers down his spine. 

Brendon didn't dare to move for the fear of waking the sleeping man. He looked so peaceful, almost breakable. His face was slack and a few strands of black hair fell over his eyes. Brendon gently brushed them away with his thumb and continued to stroke Dallon's cheek. 

The sleeping man hummed and curled more into Brendon's chest. 

"I love you so much, Dallon." Brendon whispered as his heart swelled. He would never be able to have this man; Dallon would never love him the same way that he did. "Just, please don't leave me. I need you." 

Brendon sat in the silence for several more minutes, feeling small and helpless at the bittersweet situation that he was in, of holding his unrequited love in his arms. If only he could hold this man all the time and watch goofy scifi movies with him whenever he wanted. If only he could kiss him. If only. 

Hesitantly, after taking a few more moments to work up the courage, Brendon kissed Dallon's forehead. 

Brendon held his breath as the man stirred, only to fall back asleep against his chest. Brendon breathed a sigh of relief, and he suddenly felt tired. He could just close his eyes, just for a few minutes. Then he would wake Dallon and play it off as a coincidence that they had woken in each other's arms. They were just two bodies seeking warmth. 

"Just a few minutes," Brendon breathed, and soon he too was asleep.


	2. Goodnight, Socialite (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon gets drunk, Dallon is sick of babysitting him. 
> 
> Rated Mature. Warning for drinking, Dom/sub and sexual undertones.

Brendon was wasted. Dallon had seen no less than 5 different drinks make their way past the singer's lips and by the way that he was dancing, he'd snuck a few more than that. 

Dallon did not like clubs. Everyone was drunk and sweaty and too loud. Normally, he would have stayed at home, reading a novel until he fell asleep. But no, Brendon had called him earlier that day, saying that he and the guys were going to a club and that he needed a designated driver back. Apparently, the other designated driver didn't have enough space in his car for Brendon, but really, no one like dealing with an intoxicated Brendon. He was more clingy than usual and prone to alternating fits of laughter and sobbing. 

He also did stupid things when he was drunk, like trying to backflip off of a speaker and failing miserably. Dallon made his way through the throngs of people to Brendon, who was now lying on the floor, dazed but otherwise unhurt. 

"C'mon, we're leaving." Dallon hissed as he helped Brendon to his feet, wrapping an arm around his hip to steady the stumbling man. 

"But Dal! It's only midnight." Brendon whined, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. "I was just starting to have fun." He tried to stumble from Dallon's grip, but he was caught with a firm grip on his wrist. 

"Don't give me that tons. You were just about to break your neck. Now, we are going to leave and you are going to shut up until I tell you that you can speak." Dallon growled as he jerked Brendon along. He was tired and annoyed and did not want to have to babysit a drunk Brendon Urie, but hey, one can't have everything. 

Dallon caught the attention of the rest of the group, motioning that he and Brendon were leaving. Then, while keeping his grip tight on Brendon's wrist, he led them to the car. Brendon was way too drunk to be left alone, so Dallon set out for his own house. 

***

Brendon had been silent for the whole car ride, eyes wide. He stared alternatingly at Dallon and at his wrist. Once they pulled into the driveway, Dallon huffed and ran his hands through his hair before turning to Brendon. 

"Look, I'm sorry for talking to you like that. I'm just frustrated because you do this all the time. You get drunk and expect me to keep you from getting hurt. It pisses me off. I'm not your mother, and you are not a toddler. I care for you so much, and it hurts me to see your lack of self preservation" Dallon reached out and took Brendon's wrist, a little red from where he had gripped it earlier. "I'm sorry for hurting you. Please say something." He said softly. 

Brendon focused on Dallon, his pupils blown wide. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to process Dallon's words. 

"Tighter." He whispered. Dallon quirked an eyebrow, then increased the pressure around Brendon's wrist. 

The smaller man gasped and moaned softly. He began to squirm in his seat, his pants showing a notable bulge. "Please..."

Dallon quickly let go of Brendon's wrist as he realized what happening. "Brendon, you are drunk. We are going inside, and you are going to bed. Maybe, if you are good, we can discuss this in the morning."

Brendon pouted again, but he allowed Dallon to carry him. After some struggling and stumbling, and the promise of breakfast from McDonald's, Brendon Urie was safely inside Dallon's home. 

"C'mon Dallon," he giggled hopefully as he sat on Dallon's bed, running his fingers over the duvet. "Let's have some fun." His eyes drooped and he blinked rapidly to focus his vision. 

Dallon sighed, shaking his head and smiling as he helped Brendon under the sheets. "The only fun that you're having is in dreamland." Brendon relaxed as Dallon tucked him in, but he whined as Dallon moved to leave. 

"Please, stay. Don't leave." Brendon whispered in the darkness. He sounded small, helpless. 

Dallon smiled at the young man. "Just until you fall asleep." He climbed under the sheets as well and soon Brendon had settled on his chest. 

"Goodnight, Brendon," he whispered as the man's breathing evened out. Dallon ran his fingers through Brendon's hair, and the younger man mumbled something. 

Maybe it was nothing, or maybe Dallon misheard, but he thought that he heard a slurred "I love you."

He fell asleep with Brendon in his arms and a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not beta'd. Please let me know if you find errors. 
> 
> Comments or suggestions? Find me at Alex-the-anthropologist on tumblr or on here in the comments. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. After 10 Cups of Coffee, I'll Fake It (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon has a bit too much coffee and Dallon intervenes.

Brendon's hands were shaking, a combination of pre-show jitters and possibly the 10 cups of coffee that he had consumed in 24 hours. Yeah, it was probably the coffee, when Brendon thought about it. 

They hadn't had time to sleep between the shows. They'd discussed contracts on the plane, then had been rushed off to do an early morning radio show. Then sound check. Sure, some small naps had been squeaked in, but all of them were now running off of sheer will and caffeine. 

Brendon groaned as he held the eyeliner pencil to his eye, only to have it fall from his fingertips. Damn it. He just want to put on his eye makeup. 

Suddenly, the door to the dressing room opened, revealing Brendon's favorite bassist. He held a Dr. Pepper in one hand and some sour gummy worms in the other. He was wearing his signature black shirt and jean ensemble. God, he looked hot. If Brendon weren't so tired, he might have admired the way that those pants hugged Dallon's ass just a bit more. 

"Hey dude. Thought you could use some of these." Dallon tossed the gummy worms to Brendon, who dropped them from his shaking fingers. Brendon let out another frustrated groan as he sank into a sofa that was in the corner. 

"You okay there, Bren?" Dallon's blue eyes were concerned and he placed a steadying hand on Brendon's shoulder. "You're shaking."

"It's the coffee. My hands won't stop shaking. I can't even put on my fucking eyeliner. How will I be able to play the guitar tonight?" Brendon began to run his fingers through his hair. Gently, Dallon sat beside the singer and pried the man's fingers from his hair. 

"You need to calm down then." He said gently. "Breathe with me. In and out." They repeated this exercise for a few moments, foreheads pressed together. Brendon closed his eyes. Dallon was so close to him. If he leaned forward just a bit more...

Suddenly, the pressure on his forehead was gone. Brendon blinked, dazed for a moment. Dallon had moved from the sofa to grab Brendon's eyeliner pencil. He then returned to his side, placing a hand on Brendon's cheek to steady his head. 

"Is this okay? Your hands are still a bit shaky, so I'll put on your eyeliner. Just keep breathing." Dallon's hand was warm as it cupped Brendon's cheek. Those sparkling blue eyes and that genuine, affectionate smile, one just for him, was almost too much. Brendon's heart rate skyrocketed as the man moved closer and began applying the eyeliner. 

"Breathe, Bren, breathe." Dallon smiled as Brendon gulped down a breath. He hadn't realized that he had been holding it. He was mesmerized by those eyes, like ocean waves on a shore. He could drown in them if he let himself. 

Dallon finished with one eye and moved to the other, his face even closer to Brendon's and his body half in Brendon's lap. Brendon's mouth was so dry; his eyes were at level with Dallon's lips. All he had to do was lean forward...

Dallon's hand dropped from his face and smoothed his hair. Dallon pressed a quick kiss to Brendon's forehead, a habit that had developed between the two when Brendon became overwhelmed. Those forehead kisses offered both a steadying force and an unrequited hope of more. 

Brendon found Dallon's hand once again on his cheek. The older man was smiling warmly at his dazed look. "You there, Bren? You zoned out for a bit." 

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just tired. Thanks for everything. I love you, man." So much, Brendon added. 

They were silent for a moment as Dallon looked away. "You know if do anything for you." Dallon whispered. Dallon stroked Brendon's cheek with his thumb, and that was the last straw. 

Brendon surged forward, wrapping his fist in the front of Dallon's shirt and pulling the man forward, their foreheads touching, their lips millimeters apart. 

"I'm giving you a chance to leave. If you don't want this, leave now and we can forget this ever happened." Brendon's breath ghosted over Dallon's lips. They both shivered at the breathy moan that left Dallon's lips. 

"Not a chance, Urie. You're stuck with me." 

And then their lips met. Years of sexual tension melted away as hands found necks and hips and as lips and tongues tasted hints of coffee and sugar. The kiss was slow, but it deepened as Brendon found himself pinned against the sofa. 

Brendon's heart felt like it was going to explode as it swelled with happiness. Dallon pulled away, resting his ear against Brendon's chest as he intertwined their fingers. "Finally." He whispered. 

"Finally." Brendon agreed as he pressed a soft kiss to Dallon's forehead. They stayed in the silence for an indiscernible amount of time, hands tracing patterns on skin, memorizing each other. 

The opening of the door jolted them, and they fell from the sofa, giggling hysterically at the confused looks from the other band members. Gaining their composure, they readied themselves for the show, a new, calming energy settling over them that kept the need for sleep and the jitters from all of the coffee momentarily at bay. 

And if Brendon snuck into Dallon's bunk later that night and they were found with entwined limbs the next morning, well, let's just say that someone in the band won a longstanding bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. Please let me know if you find errors.
> 
> Comments or suggestions? Find me at Alex-the-anthropologist on tumblr or on here in the comments.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. In Your Dreams (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, some smut with some plot and some pining (I'm so sorry about all of the pining, but it's what keeps crossing my mind.)

Dallon Weekes peaked past the curtains, watching as the crowd filled in at the tiny venue. It was standing room only, with maybe 500 people max. Still, it was a pretty good turnout for the Brobecks for an impromptu show. The crowd mainly consisted of the young women and teenagers that was their fanbase, but a face in the crowd caught Dallon's eye. 

Brown hair, chestnut-colored eyes. He was lean and short. Well, everyone was shorter than Dallon. Leaning against the stage and eyes wandering, the man looked bored. That is, until his eyes met Dallon's. 

Surely the man couldn't see him, right? But, sure enough, the man held his gaze and smirked. He winked and blew an air kiss to Dallon before looking away. Before the man could look in his direction, Dallon retreated to go find his band members. At least in the dark backstage light, no one could tell that he was blushing. 

***

Dallon felt like he was going to die. The stage lights felt warmer than usual and he took a break between songs to rid himself of his sweltering jacket and to chug a bottle of water. 

The man had kept his eyes on Dallon the entire night. God, there was something about him, something alluring, something strange. He felt like he knew the man, but couldn't place from where. A fire burned in the man's eyes, into Dallon's soul. The burn of arousal also stirred in the pit of his stomach. The man was hotter than the devil himself. Hell, Dallon wouldn't care if he was the devil. Dallon wanted that man, wanted to reach out and touch him. 

Now, how to get the man's attention. Well, he already had that. But he need just the man's attention, not the rest of the screaming crowd. It was too loud to whisper a message into his ear, and pulling him on stage would create an uproar amongst the crowd. 

Then, it hit him. A note. He could pass a note to the man. During encore, he could run off-stage, scribble a place and a time, and throw it at the man. It was a brilliant plan. 

Well, until Dallon actually went through with it. When he returned back to the stage for the encore. The man was gone. Of course. Just his luck. He would probably never see the man again. 

With a twinge of loss permeating his energy high, he continued with the final few songs, all the while scanning the crowd for the mysterious man. 

***

"Looking for me?" A voice cooed from behind Dallon as he exited the building's back door. They had just finished loading up the equipment and he was on his way to his car and, after that, to his empty house. Dallon was sweaty and tired and disappointed. He didn't want to deal with this stranger. 

"Look dude," Dallon turned to the fan, ready to give an autograph and leave. But the air left his lungs when he saw that it was the brown-eyed man. "Uh, hi. Did you enjoy the show?"

The man smirked, and Dallon felt like he was melting from the blush that crossed his cheeks. "I did, actually. It's a wonder why you aren't more famous. Your lyrics and instrumentation are amazing. I'm a big fan."

Dallon leaned against the brick wall next to the door and the man mirrored him. 

"What's your name?" Dallon whispered as the stranger moved closer and closer. Breathing in the same air. 

"Does it matter?" The man grinned. "You're going to kiss me either way, so let's cut the chit-chat, shall we?"

And then lips were on Dallon's. He gasped and found a tongue pressing past his lips. It felt amazing as he was pushed against the wall and as the kiss deepened. A knee was between his legs, one hand in his hair, another on the tight bulge of his crotch. 

The friction of the man grinding against him was delicious. Warm shots of arousal went down his spine as lips moved from his mouth to his neck, to his collar. He felt the warm sting of the man biting at his skin, and he let out a breathy moan. He'd lost focus on kissing the man; all he could do was pant and moan and grip at the man's back for something to ground himself. 

He ground against the man's leg, feeling the tension building in his gut. He was so close... He felt fingertips sneak under the waist band of his boxer-briefs, and a nip at his neck, and suddenly he was coming...

Dallon jolted awake, his head hitting the top of the bunk. He was disoriented, then he remembered. Panic! at the Disco. Playing the bass. He was on tour with everyone, with Dan, Kenny, and...Brendon. 

Dallon felt a stickiness in his underwear. Had he really just...

He fell back onto his pillow as he recounted the remnants of the dream. He'd been having more of those kinds of dreams recently, and they were driving him up the wall. 

Still, it had been a great dream. Bittersweet, but great. How long would they continue to go on? How long could his desire for a certain singer continue?

He sighed. He was so fucked, and not in the good way. But then again, who wasn't when the man of your dreams was sleeping in the bunk across from you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. Please let me know if you find errors.
> 
> Comments or suggestions? Find me at Alex-the-anthropologist on tumblr or on here in the comments.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. A Stroke of Luck (Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get very hot at a concert venue. (To all of my readers, try to stay cool this summer. Stay safe and know the signs of heat-related illness. Also, I'm not a doctor.)

God it was hot. The heat index was reading well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit and the venue had set up water and cooling stations. Well, for the fans. The band was stuck under the hot stage lights. 

Brendon had stripped down to barely nothing, Kenny had changed into a t-shirt, and Dan had unbuttoned his shirt and was occasionally pouring water over himself. 

Dallon, being the most timid of the group, was still in his black button-up and jeans. He'd rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned a few of the top buttons, but black absorbs hear and he felt like he was dying. 

He was downing a few gulps of water when a wave of dizziness hit him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself. It wasn't like he hadn't performed while a bit dizzy before. He was fine. 

A few minutes later, the headache and nausea hit him. He tried to steady himself again, but it was difficult to concentrate on the right notes. Closing his eyes made him more dizzy. His heart was beating so fast. Oh god, what was happening? 

The dizziness was overwhelming, and his vision was covered with black spots. He was shaking so hard, his hands falling away from his bass. He handed it to a tech person with shaky hands. He was starting to panic. He was so tired; all of the energy seemed zapped from his limbs, but his heart was beating out of his chest. He tried to walk towards his water bottle, but felt his knees go out and the last of his vision left him. 

***

"What the fuck is happening? What's wrong with him?" A frantic voice said. Dallon recognized the voice. He wanted to see Brendon though, but he was too tired to open his eyes. 

He felt unfamiliar hands on his body, touching his chest and face and legs. While these hands roamed, he felt a steady grip on his hand. 

"Sir, you need to stand back. We think he's suffering from heat exhaustion, but we need to take him to the hospital as soon as possible. Do you have contacts for his family?"

"He's my husband. Please let me go with you." 

Dallon waned in and out, on the cusp of consciousness, the grip on his hand never wavering. He finally let himself slip into the darkness, comfortable in the knowledge that someone cared. 

***

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

"C'mon Dallon. We need you to be okay." A breath. "I need you to be okay. I know I can act like a brat sometimes, but I need you. I need you in my life because you make me feel like I'm not a fuck up, like this band thing is actually worth it." A pause. "I thought about quitting so many times, but then you would smile and look at me with those beautiful eyes and remind me that I don't suck, that I might actually be a decent person. Your energy has kept me going for many a-night. I love you." 

"Sometimes, I think that you might like me too. I hold onto that hope, you know. I know I flirt with everyone, but with you I don't have to fake it." A resigned sigh. "What am I saying? You keep me from falling apart on a daily basis. I live to see you smile, to know that I can make you somewhat happy. You calm me and make the violent, self-destructive thoughts in my head stop. Oh, I'm a mess. And a coward. I can't even tell you this when you're awake... Just, please, wake up and be the Dallon that I love."

Dallon had been floating as he heard the man speak, but like an anchor to the sea floor, he was jerked back into himself. His heart rate increased and he was finally aware of his body. He opened his eyes slowly, finding an anchor in the hand that gripped his. 

"Hey Bren," he murmured as he found the younger man slumped forward, his head resting on the hospital bed. Dallon reached over with his free hand to pet Brendon's hair. His mouth felt heavy and his brain foggy, but he continued. "Don't be afraid. 'S okay. I like like you too." 

"Dal?" Brendon's head shot up, brown eyes meeting blue-green. 

"Who else would I be? Kenny?" Dallon smiled at the younger man as he was pulled into and awkward hug. "Sorry for scaring you. Guess I can't handle the heat like I used to." 

"Don't ever do that again. If you feel unwell, you tell someone and stop playing." Brendon scolded before breaking into a grin and kissing Dallon's forehead. "You are a beautiful, dedicated idiot."

"And apparently, you are my beautiful dedicated husband?" Dallon cocked an eyebrow as Brendon blushed and pulled away. 

"Oh, you heard that...fuck, I mean, it must have been a fever dream or something."

"Kiss me, you idiot, then go get the doctor so that I can get out of here." 

And Brendon surged forward, capturing Dallon's lips in a soft kiss. Dallon's heart beat on the monitor jumped, and an alarm went off. 

"Does this mean that I can kiss you a bit longer?" Brendon grinned. Dallon smiled and allowed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. Please let me know if you find errors.
> 
> Comments or suggestions? Find me at Alex-the-anthropologist on tumblr or on here in the comments.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. When The One You Love is in Love With Someone Else (Teen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon and Dan are flirty with each other and Brendon doesn't like it one bit. 
> 
> Prompt courtesy of a tumblr anon, who wanted a jealous Brendon and a flirty Dan and Dallon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did a thing and made myself sad about Kenny. I'm sorry...

Brendon going insane. Dallon had been acting...weird. Well, weirder than usual. Weird as hell, actually. 

Dallon had been avoiding him, just out of the blue. Every time Brendon entered the room, Dallon would busy himself or leave altogether. Or he would whisper something to Dan, then they would giggle. Dan and Dallon had gotten really close. Really really close. 

First, it started with them being inseparable. They would always stand beside each other in photos and sit on the same sofa. They would roam around the various cities at night. Then, they started touching each other. Arms around shoulders, chins resting on the crook of the neck, the grabbing of wrists and hands to show the other something interesting, holding hands when walking around tour venues. More than once, Brendon had walked onto the bus to find Dallon half-asleep on the sofa with Dan's head in his lap or on his shoulder. 

But the one thing that had annoyed Brendon the most was the sleeping situation. During hotel nights, Dallon usually roomed with Brendon. Many a night, when they were both tired and when Brendon was slightly drunk, they would collapse onto the same bed and Brendon would fall asleep in Dallon's arms. Sometimes, when Dallon was awake before him, he would find the man running his fingers through Brendon's hair, those brilliant blue eyes seeming to memorize his face. Brendon would awaken, warm and content, and his day would instantly be brighter. 

Then, one day, Dan approached him, asking if he would mind it if Kenny roomed with Brendon for a bit. Brendon's heart fell, but he agreed, a lump forming in his throat. He felt like he and Dallon were drifting apart, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

And now at the hotel bar, as he downed finished another bottle of beer-he'd lost count- he was feeling really sorry for himself and he wanted a particular bassist to hold him and stroke his hair. He wanted to feel warm puffs of breath upon his neck and the press of a warm body against his own. He wanted those long fingers on his skin and those blue eyes staring in his soul. 

Kenny found him around midnight, on the verge of breaking down. The guitarist paid Brendon's tab and helped him stumbled to their room. He set him gently down on one of the beds and handed the man a bottle of water and draped a blanket around his shoulders. 

"Brendon, what's been going on with you?" Kenny said softly. He sat beside Brendon, and the drunk man slumped against his shoulder, mumbling and hiding his face in Kenny's shirt, fingers twisting and grasping at the fabric as small sobs broke the silence. 

"Oh Bren...come here. I've got you." Kenny sighed as he swing his legs onto the bed and pulled the crying man onto his chest. He ran his hands soothingly over Brendon's back, the man eventually calming. 

Brendon began playing with one of the buttons on Kenny's shirt, twisting it in his fingers, absorbed in his actions. Dissociated. Fuck. At least he wasn't crying. 

"Hey. Hey Bren, come back to me." Kenny whispered as he pressed his hands gently but with force into Brendon's skin. He needed the man to focus on him. Drunk Brendon was one thing, but drunk and anxious Brendon was a bad mixture. 

The man looked up at him blankly, staring into space, his eyes glazed over. "Hey, you're here. I need you to come back to me. Get out of that head of yours. Let me help fix what's troubling you. Focus on your body, on you being here."

He took Brendon's hands in his own and gently applied pressure up and down the man's limbs, giving Brendon something to focus on. After several minutes, Brendon came back into himself, blinking as he looked at Kenny. 

"You okay?" Kenny whispered, gently stroking Brendon's hair. "You were gone for a bit." 

Brendon nodded and settled his head on Kenny's chest, closing his eyes and focusing on Kenny's steady heartbeat. 

"It's Dallon." He finally said. "He and Dan are so...ugh. I can't stand it. It's like I don't even exist anymore. Whenever I try to talk to him, Dan is suddenly there and they're touching and it pisses me off because I want Dallon to do all of those things with me. I want him to comfort me and sleep with me and laugh with me and touch me and hug me. I want him to be happy, but I want to be the one making him happy."

"Sounds like you're jealous." Kenny murmured. "But look, if you love him, you need to tell him. And soon. If not, you might lose him. I've been in your shoes, afraid to tell someone that you love them, and it's hell to watch that person fall for someone who isn't you."

Brendon scoffed. "I'm not jealous and I'm not in love-" he paused. "Oh fuck. I'm in love with him. I need to tell him now-" Brendon moved to get up, but strong arms trapped him. 

"No. Right now, you are going to sleep. You are drunk and I'm too tired to chase after you. Besides, you need to be somewhat sober for anything to be taken as the truth. So, tell him tomorrow." Brendon sighed at Kenny's words and relented, his body going slack as he collapsed against the man. 

Tomorrow, yes. Tomorrow. He was asleep within moments, a hint of a smile on his face. 

Kenny lay awake for long after that, staring at his friend's face. God, the man was beautiful, like an angel. Dallon was a lucky man, well, if only he could realize what he had. 

***

They had a show the next day, and the backstage area was a maze. Dressing rooms were under the stage, and Brendon was a nervous wreck. He had no idea what he was going to tell Dallon, or how Dallon would react. 

Kenny pulled Dan out of the dressing room to go check out the stage before soundcheck and gave Brendon a thumbs up. Well, it was now or never. 

"Hey Dal, can we talk?" Brendon was proud of the steadiness in his voice. Dallon was sitting on the sofa, playing with an acoustic bass. He set it down and looked up at Brendon. 

"What's up?" He asked as Brendon sat beside him, his body facing Dallon full on. Those blue eyes were on him, only him, and Brendon felt his resolve melting as his heart fluttered. 

"I miss you. You're always with Dan, and I don't like it. I want you to do those things with him, not me." Brendon looked at his hands; he was too scared to look for the rejection in Dallon's eyes. "Look, I like you, a lot, and I don't want to let you go without putting up a fight."

Silence fell between them, until Brendon felt a finger flick his forehead. "Finally, you idiot." Dallon laughed. "I bet Dan that it would take three weeks for you to give in and confess it. I didn't expect for you to last two months." At Brendon's confused look, Dallon chuckled and smiled. "Dan agreed to help me make you jealous because I was sick of dancing around the uncertainty. So yes, you utter dork, I like you too. And I'll do all of those things, and more with you." 

A smile crossed Brendon's face as he processed Dallon's words, and instantly, he was on Dallon's lap, arms around the man's neck. 

"Kiss me?" He whispered. And Dallon closed the distance between them. 

Just as they pulled away for air, the door opened. Dan breathed a sigh of relief, the words "finally" on his lips. Kenny stood there, a smile plastered on his face. He fooled everyone but himself, but he continued to smile. They deserved each other, and if that made them happy, so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. Please let me know if you find errors.
> 
> Comments or suggestions? Find me at Alex-the-anthropologist on tumblr or on here in the comments.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Transparency (Teen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I saw a prompt for a transman! Brendon experiencing some dysphoria and I kinda ran with it. Sorry. 
> 
> *Disclaimer: this chapter deals with dysphoria and some mention of top and bottom bits. If this might cause problems for you, please don't read it. Also, I used my feelings of dysphoria as the basis for this and I, by no means, do not speak for all trans people. 
> 
> If you bind, please bind safely, and if you have any questions, I'd be more than happy to answer them below or on my tumblr. 
> 
> If you need me to add more warning or corrections, please let me know! Thanks!

Alone. Finally alone. 

Brendon let out a long sigh as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He pulled his shirt off. God, his binder was so sweaty. He needed to wash it, maybe get a couple more. His current ones were taking getting really worn down from all of the summer concerts. At times onstage, he ached to be able to remove his shirt, and the binder, because who gives a fuck? But tumblr would have a field day and Instagram might delete their account. He couldn't do that to the band by coming out publicly. Hell, he couldn't even come out to his boyfriend of three months and best friend of three years. 

But then again, he and his boyfriend hadn't been able to do much more than make-out, cuddle, and collapse over each other in pure exhaustion. 

Brendon ran his fingers through his hair and looked at his face. He looked tired. When had he last slept without tossing and turning?

It had been a while. There were bags under his eyes. He needed a haircut. He looked at his whole face in the mirror, then his chest. Then...he sneezed. 

Fuck. At a tell-tale sign of the beginnings of an illness, Brendon groaned. It wasn't like he hadn't performed with a cold before, but his doctor recommended against wearing a binder when he was sick, and that meant wearing looser, bulkier clothes in the July weather. Fuck. 

Brendon sighed, pulling off his binder and pulling on a hoodie. He needed sleep, and maybe some vitamin C. 

***

The vitamin C was not helping, and Brendon had never been so sick. He could barely speak without breaking into a coughing fit. They had cancelled and rescheduled their shows for the week, and Brendon had been sent home so that he could recover and so that his cold didn't turn into pneumonia. It was all Brendon could do to let Dallon take care of him as he rested in the comfort of his own bed. 

Despite the heat, he hadn't removed his hoodie other than to shower or put on a different one. With Dallon underfoot, it was difficult to do anything. 

"Since when have you been shy about taking your clothes off?" Dallon remarked. "You mooned an entire audience once."

Brendon had ignored the comment, citing that he was just really cold. Dallon had dropped the matter, and, with a kiss to Brendon's forehead, went to go make some soup for them both. 

His skin itched and crawled. It felt too tight, and when he looked in the mirror, he saw his former self. Ghost images of too much eyeliner and lipstick, of long hair and smooth skin. Of painted nails and dresses and purity rings. Of having to hide, to conform, to be the perfect daughter. He knew that it wasn't real, but if he squinted, he could see the too-feminine features, the softened curves that weren't there. His very real chest didn't help. He covered it with his hands, pressing down on the fatty, lumpy tissue, giving some semblance of flatness. It didn't help. 

Caught up in his thoughts, Brendon didn't notice the knock on the door, or the turning of the knob. It was only when he heard Dallon make a noise that he turned. He froze for a moment, and then was sprinting out of the bathroom, running past Dallon. 

He stopped only when he had locked himself in his bedroom, trying to catch his breath as he wheezed from the physical exertion. He collapsed against the door, sinking down and hugging his knees. Fuck. Why did he have to be like...this? Why did he feel so uncomfortable in his own skin? He was on testosterone, and he had a frame and build that most transmen would love to have, but it wasn't enough. He could get close, but would he ever be truly comfortable in his own skin? Maybe. Maybe he would find someone who would love even that part of him, so that he could love that part of himself. Maybe he needed to love himself first though. Maybe. He didn't know. He was sick and tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up with his tall boyfriend, but he had ruined that, of course. 

He was crying in full force when he heard the soft knock on the door. A shiver ran down his spine and he realized he was freezing. He pulled on a hoodie and rested his head against the door. He was exhausted. 

"Brendon," Dallon said softly from the other side. "Can I come in?"

"That depends. Are you going to yell at me or beat me up?"

"No Brendon. I just think we should talk." Dallon replied. Brendon remained silent. Maybe if he ignored Dallon, Dallon wouldn't leave the band, wouldn't leave him for just a bit longer. 

The silence persisted, then Brendon heard the ring of a guitar being played down the hall. 

"Only if you want me to, I could fall in love with you..." Dallon's voice rang out, then he was back at the door. "Do you get it, Brendon? Please just come out."

"I don't-" Brendon wanted to unlock the door, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He broke into a coughing fit. His lungs ached and he felt like he was choking. He needed water. He stumbled to his feet and wrenched the door open, running into Dallon, who held out a bottle of water. 

"Figured you might want this," Dallon smiled and pressed a kiss to Brendon's head. After Brendon had drank some water and his coughing had subsided, Dallon led Brendon to the sofa before pulling the smaller man onto his chest and holding him tightly. 

"You are the best man that I know, Brendon. I don't care how you got here. You are you, and I love you the way you are, the way that makes you feel the most comfortable." Dallon murmured into Brendon's hair. "I don't love you any less because you were designated female at birth. In fact, I love you more, because you are so strong for staying alive, for getting to this moment with me."

"But I'm not a man, you know, down-" Brendon buried his face into Dallon's chest, and the man hugged him closer, running his fingers through Brendon's hair. 

"You are man enough for me, Brendon Urie, and don't let anyone tell you anything different. And we can work it out, with the logistics. We don't even need to have sex if it makes you uncomfortable, but we can discuss that when you don't have the plague. And I'm open to anything as long as I get to be the person who loves you." 

Brendon looked up at those blue eyes, at that smile that was only meant for him. Dallon was too good for him. 

"Why are you so accepting of this? How do you not have more questions?" 

At that, Dallon smiled timidly. "Well, I wasn't expecting to tell you for a while, back when I thought you were cis, but you're not the only transperson in this relationship."

Then Dallon broke into song, "I'm a teenage beauty queen of sorts..."

Brendon's face lit up. "Pronouns?"

"He/him, but sometimes she/her. I'll tell you how I'm feeling on any particular day. It shifts. As my boyfriend, I'm expecting you to help me paint my toes. I can't reach them that well." Dallon smiled and pulled Brendon into a slow, emotional kiss. Brendon rested his head on Dallon's chest and they fell asleep, happy in each other's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. Please let me know if you find errors.
> 
> Comments or suggestions? Find me at Alex-the-anthropologist on tumblr or on here in the comments.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
